


White Flags

by chrisdoritoevans (spookyrumba)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Apologies, Fluff, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 03:20:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2008992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyrumba/pseuds/chrisdoritoevans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We’re not sure who could’ve done it, though. To be honest, we’re not even sure who would want to. Why would anyone want to bleach the American flag anway?”</p><p>“Wait, bleached white?”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s still the flag up there, just with the color stripped,” explained Stacy. “If you get up real close you can still see some of the lines.”</p><p>Steve frowned as a thought struck him. Surely the idiot wouldn’t have- but of course he would. “Excuse me, Captain Stacy,” he interrupted. “I have to go."</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Flags

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what I'm doing I just got this dumb headcanon because of the [news about the white flags](http://time.com/3019446/brooklyn-bridge-white-flags/) and I needed to write it down.

“Captain Rogers, I’m afraid you have exceeded your daily limit for gym use. If you continue to use the gym, I will be obligated to alert another member of the team.”

Steve sighed as JARVIS alerted him, resting his forearms on the punching bag in front of him, and wished the team had never picked up on just how much time he spent in the gym when he was frustrated. Unwrapping the tape from his hands, he wandered over to the elevator, where his fingers hovered over the buttons. After a moment of deliberation, he pressed the button for the ground floor, deciding to go for a run.

He ran for hours, feet pounding the pavement, winding through a city that was at once familiar and foreign. The muggy summer heat pulled at him, sweat and humidity sticking his shirt to his chest. Steve’s normal running route didn't stray this far south, but he had too much energy left to burn.

As he passed City Hall, he noticed a large crowd gathering, pointing and taking photos of Brooklyn Bridge. Brooklyn Bridge, which had had its American flags replaced with stark white ones. Slowing to weave through the gaping spectators, he made his way to a nearby police car, where a handful of officers were milling around.

Pulling out his wallet and Avengers ID, Steve approached one of them. “Excuse me, Officer-”

The policeman turned and glared, looking haggard and aggravated. “Look,” he sighed waspishly, “you’re about the fiftieth person I've had approach me today. We don’t know anything about the damn flags, and if we did? You wouldn't be allowed to know anyway. Just wait and read about it in the papers like everyone else, alright bud?”

Raising an eyebrow, Steve offered the man his ID. “Well I was going to offer my help, but I’m glad we've established that you don’t know anything about ‘the damn flags’.”

Waving Steve’s card away without even looking at it, he snapped, “Look, man, I don’t care who you think you are. I have enough to deal wi-”

“Captain Rogers!”

Steve turned and saw the broad figure of Captain George Stacy approaching. “Captain Stacy,” he greeted, shaking the man’s hand.

“Here to help, Captain?” he asked, taking in Steve’s sweaty shirt and mussed hair with an amused look.

“I was just on a run, actually,” Steve admitted. “I was in the area, and came to see what all the commotion was.”

“Well, as you can see, someone decided to replace the flags up there. But I’m glad you’re around,” Stacy replied. “Thompson, it’s your lucky day,” he said to the officer Steve had spoken to before. “It’s not every day you get to talk to Captain America, right?”

Thompson’s face was quickly draining of color. “C- Captain America?”

Stacy gave him an odd look. “What, you didn't see his ID?” He glanced at Steve, who shrugged. “Well anyway,” he went on, turning to Steve fully now, “video surveillance shows that the lights went out at about 3 this morning. We’re not sure who could’ve done it, though. To be honest, we’re not even sure who would want to. Why would anyone want to bleach the American flag anyway?”

“Wait, bleached white?”

“Yeah, it’s still the flag up there, just with the color stripped,” explained Stacy. “If you get up real close you can still see some of the lines.”

Steve frowned as a thought struck him. Surely the idiot wouldn't have- but of course he would. “Excuse me, Captain Stacy,” he interrupted. “I have to go. I’m sorry I wasn't more help.”

“Hey, you okay, Captain?” Stacy asked, a concerned furrow in his brow.

“I’m fine,” he replied, already turning to go.

He ran the ten miles back to the tower at full speed, unsure whether he was upset or amused or a mixture of both.

***

_Ten months ago_

The sleek silver convertible pulled up as Steve stepped out of SHIELD HQ, Tony Stark in the driver’s seat with a pair of sunglasses and a smirk on his face. “Get in loser, we’re going shopping.”

“Shopping?” Steve repeated, startled.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s a reference. Just get in.” Even behind the dark glasses, Steve could just tell he was rolling his eyes.

Scowling, Steve got in the passenger’s side. There was no point trying to avoid the man, really. If he declined, Stark would just bug him some other time. It was easier to get it over with. After a few minutes of silent driving with no explanation offered by the other man, Steve gave in to the curiosity. “What do you want, Stark?”

“A man can’t come see his favourite Capsicle once in a while?” Stark asked with a razor-sharp grin. Seeing that Steve wasn't amused, he slumped a little. “We’re going to lunch. My treat.”

Steve eyed him suspiciously, wondering if there was some trick involved. “Why?”

Stark sighed, fingers tapping a rhythm on the wheel. “I realize I’m an asshole, Cap, but I’m not out to get you or anything. There’s no ulterior motive. And anyway, we’re here.”

Steve looked up, and saw that they had pulled up next to a diner. It was one of those old-fashioned places that reminded Steve of home, the kind of place Steve would never have expected to find Tony Stark in. Sighing, he clambered out of the car and followed Stark through the door. It was warm inside, a welcome reprieve from the crisp October air, and Steve followed dutifully along as they were led to a booth in the corner.

“Can I get you guys anything to drink to start with?” asked the waitress as she handed them their menus.

“Hot chocolate for both of us, and tell Darlene not to skimp on the marshmallows,” Stark said, flashing her a wide grin. “Thanks, Ruby.”

Ruby grinned back. “Not a problem, Mr. Stark. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said before sauntering off.

“Sorry I ordered for you,” he said once the girl was gone, “but they’re good.”

“Okay,” Steve said slowly. He still had no idea what was going on, and Stark, who was now fiddling with a paper napkin, didn't seem particularly forthcoming. The silence was unnerving, actually, since Stark usually never shut up. Giving it up as a lost cause, he began to study his menu in awkward silence.

He was deciding between the cheeseburger and the mac ‘n’ cheese when Stark cleared his throat. Steve jerked his head up, nearly dropping his menu from the sudden sound.

In Stark’s hands was a tiny white flag, made from a toothpick and the torn-off corner of a paper napkin. Eyes glued to it, he twirled it between his fingers. “So, uh, I’m kind of an asshole,” he blurted out, eyes wide as he looked up at Steve. He began to babble then, “Well, okay, you've kind of been a dick right back, so I don’t think it’s really all my fault, but it kind of is since I started it, and Pep says I’m being a jerk, but she always says that, and uh-” he cut himself off with a grimace. “What I mean to say, is that. Well. Um. Pepper says I need to extend an olive branch. Or something. So, uh, here?” He placed the little white flag in front of Steve, not meeting his eyes. “Sorry,” he said, scrubbing at his face. “That was stupid.”

Steve felt his lips tugging up into a smile, and picked up the flag before Stark could take it back. “It wasn't. And, uh, I’m sorry too. Some of the things I've said have been unfair.”

The smile Stark gave him was radiant, and wow - how had Steve never seen this smile before? “Do over?” he asked, sticking his hand out. “Hi. I’m Tony Stark.”

His smile now a grin, Steve shook his hand. “Steve Rogers. It’s nice to meet you, Tony,” he said, rolling the name around in his mouth.

“You too. Actually, you know what, Steve? I think that flag needs a bit more spangle,” Tony remarked.

“What?”

Tony reached over and deftly plucked the flag out of Steve’s hand, snickering a little at the forlorn look Steve gave it. “Don’t worry, I’ll give it back.” He pulled a pen out of his pocket and began to draw something on the tiny flag.

When he gave it back, a laugh bubbled out of Steve. On the napkin were tiny little stars and stripes, drawn in fine lines of black ink.

“It’s your very own albino flag,” Tony announced.

“Thanks, Tony,” Steve laughed. “It’s great.”

“Of course it is. I’m a genius.”

It was another three hours before the left the diner, with Steve feeling like maybe the twenty-first century wasn't so bad after all.

***

“Tony.” Steve burst into the workshop, swerving around DUM-E’s attempt at sweeping the floor near his feet, and beelined for where Tony was standing surrounded by glowing blue holograms.

“Steve!” Tony looked surprised to see him, eyes wary, like he was afraid he was going to get punched. One look at him, with dark circles under his eyes and hair sticking up like he’d run his fingers through it for hours, and all the fight went out of Steve. “Hi. Um. Look, before you yell at me or punch me or break up with me or whatever you’re going to do, I just want to say that I’m sorry. I completely deserve whatever you’re going to do to me, I fucked up and I know, okay? I’m really sorry, I just-” Tony wouldn't meet Steve’s eyes, so Steve reached out and tilted his chin up before interrupting.

“Brooklyn Bridge, really?” Steve asked, lips twitching.

“Well, you didn't come to bed last night and I couldn't sleep, so I thought it was a good idea? And I know I said I deserve it, but I really don’t want you to leave me, and I know I’m a massive fuck up and I’m sorry and- and you’re laughing at me, aren't you? Here I am, worried that you’re going to leave me, and you’re laughing at me. What the hell, Rogers?”

“Sorry,” Steve said, actually laughing now. “But really, Brooklyn Bridge?”

Tony shrugged. “I knew if you went to your other apartment you’d see it. Did you?”

The laughter dissipated as soon as it had appeared. “Tony,” Steve said, and waited until Tony looked back at him. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I’m not leaving you. I love you. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” He pulled Tony into his arms, breathing in the scent of metal and grease and Tony.

“You didn't come to bed last night though,” Tony mumbled into Steve’s neck. “I was worried.”

Steve huffed a breath of laughter. “I was in the gym. You know I don’t sleep well without you.”

He felt, rather than saw, Tony smile against his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Now I need to call Captain Stacy and let him know who replaced those damn flags.”


End file.
